Kissed (The Thorn Chronicles) (10 page)

“It was supposed to win.”

She hit him with her purse.

I let them go without me too.

After a few minutes, I went back out to the lobby. Even if I did get on the elevator, I wouldn’t know where to go. After watching the front desk for several minutes, I mustered up the courage to inquire. I picked a clerk who the others all deferred to. She looked a bit scary, but would probably be the one who could answer my question. The name on her tag read “Princess.”

“Excuse me, can you tell me how to get to room 3112?”

“Who are you?”

“I’m Naomi.”

The woman looked down at me from her severe nose. “No, I can’t tell you how to get to room 3112.” Then she continued typing.

“But I need to get to that room and I don’t know where to go.”

“You don’t belong in that room. Why would I tell you how to get there?”

“But Aunt Ginny lives there. Please. I need to speak with her.”

“You’re not Ginny’s niece. Nice try though.”

I didn’t come all the way to Vegas to just have some snotty front desk clerk tell me to go home.

“She’s expecting me, but I lost her number. Please call and let her know that I’m here.”

“She left a few hours ago. She’s not in her room. If she was expecting you, she’d be here. Now leave before I call security.”

I glared at her but left the desk. I found an ottoman in the lobby with a good view and sat down. I’d just have to wait. Would I recognize her? Probably not.

My insides writhed with nerves. At home my life was so predictable. I knew what to expect for the most part. Sure, my parents had surprised me with the whole Dwayne thing, but aside from that, as long as I kept my head down, I had a decent life. But here I had no idea what to expect. I feared that the whole city would go up in smoke at any moment. Plus, I knew at this point I’d committed at least a dozen sins. The punishments from the Master would probably kill me.

An hour later a foot kicked my chair. Standing above me was a girl in a skin-tight mini skirt and low cut top that pushed out her boobs. She was a Party Girl Rose. No questions on that one.

“No way are you Ginny’s niece. You don’t have the fashion sense to be related to her.”

I looked away, embarrassed. Home, I wanted to go home and be with my mother. Father was correct. Vegas was evil.

The girl spoke again.

“I’m Ricki. Ginny told me to come get you.” She popped her gum and waited.

“How do you know who I am?”

“Princess called her and told her that a scrawny girl named Naomi was waiting for her. Ginny won’t be home for a while. Come on.”

I followed, grateful to be out of the lobby. The smoky air gave me a headache.

Ricki walked a good distance in front of me. I hurried to keep up. She inserted a magic card into the slot and the elevator door opened. It was made mostly of mirrors and sparkling clean. Ricki took hand lotion out of her bag and smeared the sickly sweet smelling stuff all over her hands.

“Here,” she said and gave me the bottle. She placed both of her hands on the smooth mirror, leaving two handprints. Then she proceeded to make more prints. When her hands no longer left a satisfying print she held her hands out to me. “More.”

I obliged, a little baffled. By the time the elevator arrived at our floor she had put at least thirty prints on the mirror.

“Gah, the elevators are so slow. I keep telling them they need to install fast ones like they have over at the Bellagio, but management won’t listen to me. Housekeeping hates me, but I figured if I keep doing it they’ll start complaining too and we can get new elevators.” She shrugged like it was no big deal.

I just smiled. I had no clue what to say to that. We were only in the elevator for thirty seconds or so.

We wound our way down the hall to the end. Ricki inserted another card into the slot on the door numbered 3112. The room was wide and had huge windows that looked out over the strip.

Room wouldn’t be the best word to describe it. More like an apartment. And not a sterile one either. The main area had soft blue walls. White couches were flung about, like the designer couldn’t decide what to do with them so she just scattered them. The bamboo floor led into a spacious kitchen with an enormous granite topped bar. Around the bar were twelve stainless steel stools. The kitchen was spotless.

The living room, on the other hand, looked like Kohl’s had barfed in it.

A pink boot peeked out from under one of the four couches. Fancy dresses of all colors hung from the television and curtain rods. Shirts, pants, skirts, shoes and the occasional bathing suit littered the floor. Not one single cushion was visible.

Ricki picked up a purple sweater off a loveseat. She held it up to her chest.

“What do you think?” She turned to me and then scowled. “What am I asking you for? You wouldn’t know what looks good if it hit you in the face.”

Ricki picked up a stack of dresses off of the seat and dropped them on the floor. “Here, sit. I don’t know what Ginny is going to do with you. I know she has two bedrooms, but she uses one of them as a closet.”

I sat. And yelped. A six inch gold heel was wedged in between the cushions.

Ricki grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. She swept a stack of men’s suits off the coffee table and sat on it, crossing her legs. “So, how’d you get so lucky as to stay with Gin?”

“My parents were sent to jail, so I needed a place to stay.”

Ricki scoffed.

“For real? Gah, I wish my mom would get locked up. Then I could live here.” She twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “Maybe I can frame her. But I suppose that wouldn’t be very nice.” She sighed. I looked at her and all the skin she showed. If she ever showed up in our church every inch of bare skin would be doused with boiling water. I shivered. I’d only had to witness that one once.

“What’d your parents do?” she asked and took a sip of her water.

I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that I didn’t know so I waited for her to continue talking. That’s what Ruth would’ve done.

But Ricki just stared. After a minute or so her phone buzzed. She glanced at it and jumped up.

“Gotta run, Ginny should be home in a few.”

After Ricki left I moved a stool over to the window and watched the cars and the lights. The whole city made me dizzy and homesick. The newness of it all overwhelmed me. How would I ever fit in? And Ricki. She was nothing like Ruth. If all the girls here were like her, I’d never make any friends. I was so looking forward to having a real life, but I wouldn’t be considered normal. I didn’t know how to dress and act. My gaze settled on the mess in the living room. Ginny. She must be such a diva, with all these clothes and an apartment in a casino. What had I gotten myself into?

I walked back over to the couch and laid my head on the mound of sweaters. As my eyes drifted shut I thought of Kai. He’d come to Vegas and take me back home. We’d live in a little cabin in the woods and be happy. City life was not for me.

Most roses blend well with others. And a whole bush of roses is prettier than a single flower. But occasionally a rose is bred that seems to fill a whole room with one bloom. They are rare and prized. The only one I have in my garden is a Yves Piaget. Pink and frilly, but so large and fragrant that they outshine all the rest.

The morning sun woke me. The clothes from the couch had been shoved onto the floor, a pillow had been placed under my head and I was covered in a soft blanket. I blinked. The sun at home had never been so bright.

A woman sat across from me. She had a cell phone plastered to one ear. She smiled at me and held up a manicured finger.

“I know you’re going to Fiji. Figure it out on your own. Naomi needs me today. I’ll come see you tomorrow, your flight doesn’t leave until four.”

She paused, rolled her eyes, and mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

“Today is emergencies only. This is not an emergency. Wear anything but the Speedo.”

She was tall and thin, like my mother, but otherwise completely different. Her hair was a soft brown, cropped short and her face was neatly made up. She wore a pair of beige pants that flared out at the bottom, with a lacy pink top and more necklaces than I could count. Her heels matched. She could’ve walked straight out of a page of a magazine—those ones in the aisle at Wal-Mart with the gorgeous women on them. Not the slutty ones, the pretty ones. Vogue was always my favorite, but I never dared to pick it up. What kind of a world had I entered?

Ginny smiled at me again and tapped her foot. 

“Fine, I’ll be there in ninety, but you’re not giving Naomi a margarita. Understand?”

She tossed the phone into the ivory bag that sat on the floor next to her. She leaned forward and surveyed me.

“Tell me how you managed to get to Vegas.”

She tapped her lips with her nails. Her abruptness surprised me after all the smiling. She cocked her head to the side and waited.

“I rode the bus. All the birthday money you gave me paid for it.” No reason to tell her about Kai or that my money had been stolen.

“Clever. I called a few people this morning. They told me about your parents and the social worker went batshit crazy when she found you were gone. Your foster family didn’t report you missing.”

I cringed at the curse word, but no surprises there. “You aren’t going to make me go back, are you?” I still didn’t trust her enough to confide in her, but if she thought about sending me home, I’d tell her everything. Vegas may be scary but at least Dwayne wasn’t here.

“No, I’ve waited for years to see you. My attorney will work wonders, you’re stuck with me now.”

She stood up, grabbed my hands, and pulled me up. She looked first at my hands and fingers and tutted at the short nails. Then she examined my clothes and my face.

“Your father turned into a fundamentalist, huh?”

I knew what she meant. The fundamentalists were the ones who dressed like me.

“Not exactly, but I’m not allowed to wear pants. Or cut my hair. Although my mother dyes it blond.”

“Is that so? Personally, I think your hair would look better dark brown. That’s probably your natural color. And shorter, the long hair is not quite right for your face, unless we put some layers in it. We’ll have Rita take care of that tomorrow. She knows hair better than I do. And we’ll get you some new clothes. You can’t run around Vegas looking like this. Your eyes, are they natural?”

She turned my face from side to side and examined it.

I blushed from her intense scrutiny.

“Yes.”

“They’re gorgeous, but you could use some mascara and liner. I wish all my clients looked like you, it’d make my job easier. But the clothes. They have to go.” She smiled a wide smile that reached to her eyes.

I looked at her and searched for the words to respond. In my dreams, on the bus and before, she’d been warm and inviting. But this woman was distant and superficial. And a fashion model to boot. No way would I ever fit in here.

“Look at me, treating you like a client. Sorry.”

She flung her arms around me. I tentatively hugged her back, unsure what to do. My parents had not hugged me in years. I anticipated pain, but the hug was comforting in a weird sort of way.

She stepped back, beaming. “You probably want a shower. I’ll see what I can find for you to wear. I have to go to work. Do you want to come with me?”

I didn’t answer, but that didn’t matter because she continued to prattle on, like Ruth.

“You don’t have to, you can stay here. Ricki will keep you company. But I’d like for you to come. I want to get to know you better and my clients won’t mind. What do you say?”

Go with Ginny or stay with Ricki? Obvious choice. While Ruth went out of her way to make me feel wanted, Ricki seems to make it her mission to make me feel inferior.

“I’ll go with you.”

She released me and strode off toward the small hallway. I followed. We walked into an enormous bedroom again strewn with clothes and then into the bathroom. It had no bathtub, just a large shower with frosted glass. Ginny handed me a towel.

“I’ll find you something to wear and lay it out on the bed while you’re showering.”

The shower was complicated. It took me several minutes to figure out how to turn it on, and when I did, several nozzles shot water at me at once. I sputtered and turned around. The heat felt good. I worked shampoo into my hair and then ran conditioner through it. The conditioner smelled minty and made my head tingle. A far cry from the dollar store shampoo I used at home.

Ginny had left me a soft white skirt and a bright yellow t-shirt along with a lacy pair of underwear and a scary looking bra. Each piece had a tag on it. I squeaked a little when I saw the price tag on the skirt, and the underwear cost more than my whole outfit from home. Where did she get all these clothes? I eyed the bra. Mother wouldn’t let me wear one. Thankfully, I never really needed one, but the shirt Ginny left for me would fit tight and it would be painfully obvious that I didn’t have a bra on. It wasn’t as hard to put on as I thought, but it still itched.

The skirt was shorter than I was used to. Shock crossed my face when I looked in the mirror. My wet hair looked different in the bright light of Ginny’s bathroom and I’d never seen myself in normal clothes. I blushed.

Ginny was on the phone again when I walked out. She looked me over and mouthed “Hot.” It made me want to go crawl back into the bathroom and put on my own clothes. I didn’t want people looking at me. Ginny continued to chatter into her phone.

“I could be to your place by noon. The party doesn’t start until six, right?”

I sat on the couch and waited. I felt a bit naked with no shoes and my legs not completely covered. I tugged at my skirt so it would cover my legs a little better, but it didn’t help. Plus, I was pretty sure if I leaned too far forward someone would have a good view of my cleavage. Well, if you could call it that.

Ginny hung up again. She grabbed her purse and looked at me. “You look good. I almost brought you shorts, but figured you’d be more comfortable in a skirt. Sorry about the bra, that’s the only one I had in your size.”